


Baker Street Boys

by Tindomerelhloni



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Baker Street, Fluff, Frottage, John Watson - Freeform, Johnlock - Freeform, Kissing, M/M, Parentlock, Post Season 4, Post The Final Problem, Rosie Watson - Freeform, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform, Smut, Virgin Sherlock, how it should have ended, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-17 19:56:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9340865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tindomerelhloni/pseuds/Tindomerelhloni
Summary: Just my little headcannon of How that whole "Smiling Sherlock and John with a baby" scene should have gone.





	1. Chapter 1

It was hell. It was cramped. It was a constant stream of:  
  
_“What’s she got in her mouth this time?”_  
_“Rosie, that’s not edible.”_  
_“Sherlock, you’ve left your microscope slides lying about again, she could choke on them.”  
_ “ _Sherlock Holmes! You cannot experiment on my daughter!”_

But it was home, and John couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

During the weeks it took to rebuild Baker Street Sherlock had come to live with John and Rosie at his flat. From the moment Sherlock rocked her to sleep that first night, and the way she cried when he left the flat for a case, John knew there would be no separating them. Or at least, that was the excuse he’d stick with if he were ever asked.

But now, back in Baker Street, with Rosie (and Sherlock), John could honestly say he was happy again. Cramped… it was cramped. John was again reminded of the space limitations as he put Rosie down for a nap, in their shared bedroom. It was fine for now, in fact he couldn’t face sleeping alone again, but someday she’d want her own room. For now, though, John just sighed and watched his daughter sleep.

A soft rustle from downstairs pulled him from his thoughts and he smiled. Sherlock, for all the years he was a prick, making odd noises at ungodly hours, was quiet as a mouse whenever Rosie was a sleep. Casting one last look at his daughter he tiptoed down the stairs out of habit, these new stairs didn’t squeak like the old ones, and headed straight for the kettle.

“Asleep?” Sherlock asked in just above a whisper.

“Mmm, dead to the world. Don’t even think you could wake her.”

“Well, you underestimate me then.” Sherlock chuckled and stopped what he was doing in favor of watching John make tea.

“Ahh, no. Learned my lesson years ago.” John pulled two mugs out of the cabinet and checked them for cleanliness, more out of habit than any real fear. Sherlock had been doing an strangely marvelous job at keeping hazardous material out of the toddler's reach.

 _“I know what you could become.”_ Mary’s voice echoed in John’s head as he put a teabag in each cup. _“It could be great,”_ his own mind added as he glanced at Sherlock. The past month alone, John had found himself feeling more and more for Sherlock in a wait that went slightly above “best friends and flatmates”.

“You’re worried about something.” Sherlock noticed and took two steps closer to John, leaving them less than 2 feet apart, which, in such a small kitchen, wasn’t much. “Worried about space. As you put her down, you realized you won't be able to share a room with her forever.”

“How… you know what, never mind. I shouldn’t be surprised. Yeah, a bit. But we’ve got months, if not a good year or two before we need to worry about that.”

“We?” Sherlock blinked and watched without seeing as John prepared to cups of tea.

“Mm we.” John nodded, and then before he had a chance to give it any further thought, he was closing the gap between them and cupping Sherlock’s face in his warm hands. “It’s always us, the two of us against the world, I believe you said before I chinned you?”

“Yes…” Sherlock whispered and John knew he was not answering the question, more the intention of their touch, to further his consent he bent his head lower and nearly stopped breathing.

“I’m… going to kiss you now. To… er, see if… well. Mary said…” John stammered, not exactly stalling, but fighting for that last bit of nerve to surge forward and close the gap between his and Sherlock’s _very_ posh lips.

“We could be great.” Sherlock breathed and John felt his warm breath ghost his face.

“Yeah,” he croaked out and then they were kissing. It was the most desperate kiss John had ever had in his life. It was all tongue, and a bit too much teeth, and their noses bumped together in a way that should have been embarrassing, it was the purest and rawest kiss he’d ever had in his life. It was bliss. A strange noise filled the room and it took them both a moment to realize that the noise, or noises as it turned out to be, were coming from them. John was making a bit of a needy growling noise, while Sherlock was flat out whimpering. The kettle made a little noise, indicating that the water had come to a full boil, and John regretfully pulled away with a little nibble to the corners of Sherlock’s lips and cleared his throat.

“That was…” he shook his head slightly and took a step back, taking in the sight of a thoroughly snogged Sherlock. _“Christ, had I known he’d look that hot just from one kiss, I would have done it sooner.”_

“Nice?” Sherlock finished with a hopeful note lingering in his voice.

“Very nice.”

“Nice enough to do it again?” Sherlock gave John a shy smile as he was handed his tea and had to will his legs to follow John into the sitting room and it was with a thankful sigh that he sunk down in his chair without making a fool of himself.

“Mmm… yes.” John thought for a moment, as if trying to comprehend what had just happened before a broad smiled broke over his face. “Soon, I hope, in fact, I’m free right after this cup of tea and until Rosie wakes up, if you’re so inclined.” he smirked and blew on his tea a bit, just enough to make the steam swirl around the brim of the mug before taking a tentative sip and watched as Sherlock’s face went scarlet.  
  
“What exactly are you suggesting, John?” the wary look in Sherlock’s eye gave John pause for a moment, but he quickly regained himself and smiled over at Sherlock.

“Just kissing. For now. One step at a time, yeah?”

Sherlock visibly relaxed and took his first sip of tea before letting out a long drawn out sigh.“One step at a time.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had to write this chapter. And warning, smut!! I just.. can't help myself. I plan on making most of this story fluffy, but I had to at least include a bit of smut, because this is totally how it would happen.

 

Days turned into weeks, weeks into days and weeks into one month as    
John and Sherlock's relationship continued to blossom.  What started as a step above just flatmates quickly became tender touches during quiet moments, and heated kisses after a case. The physical aspect of their relationship never went past kisses or bodies pressed against each other on the sofa, but it was becoming obvious  to both of them that they wanted more.    
  
One afternoon, while Rosie was napping, John looked up from the newspaper he'd been trying (pretending) to read and cleared his throat, instantly Sherlock looked up and gave him a curious stare. 

“Mmm well, this is interesting.” John’s eyes fell back to the paper and he pretended to read. “A recent study shows that a certain  _ Not Gay _ flatmate, who has discovered he enjoyed kissing his male flatmate, might actually  _ not _ be straight.” 

  
"Recent?" asked Sherlock with a tilt of his head as he leaned forward, fingers under his chin. 

“Mm. It seems this hypothesis was tested and proven with remarkable results.” John continued, doing his best to hide the slight waver in his voice. 

“Tested,  _ how _ exactly?” 

“Says here, that the  _ Not Gay _ flatmate ran a series of tests on his gay flatmate…” John knew he was repeating himself, if only slightly, but he was having a hard time remembering how he had wanted to word this. It had been  _ so  _ much easier in his head.

“ _ Hypothesis _ : Not Gay Flatmate is secretly Bisexual.” Sherlock whispered, leaning so far forward that his arse was hardly in his chair. “If said gay flatmate, were to take the possibly bisexual flatmate into his bedroom, remove his clothes and apply the proper stimuli,  _ John Watson _ would then be unable to deny he has sexual feelings for  _ Sherlock Holmes. _ ”  Sherlock murmured his eyes fixed intently on John, both of them hardly breathing.

“Yeah…” John croaked out and licked his lips.

“So, how recent was this study?” Sherlock sat back, and allowed himself a smug smirk as John abandoned the paper.

“Quite recent… currently ongoing, actually.” John stood and for a moment Sherlock thought he was going to walk over to where he was sitting and kiss him, like he’d done so many times over the last week, but instead he walked to the fireplace and picked up a plain brown bag that had been sitting on the mantel for the last few days. Sherlock had seen it there, of course, and had immediately deduced the contents to be more nappy cream for Rosie, but now as John fiddled nervously with it, he realized he couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Condoms and lubricant?” he asked, nodding to the bag that was being shuffled from one of John’s hands to the other. 

“Yeah. But if you don’t want too…” John was nervous, more nervous than Sherlock could ever recall him being, and it was unnerving to see. He quickly stood, and moved into John’s personal space, towering over him as he took the bag for John’s hands.

“I want too. My bedroom?” the question was hardly worth asking. John’s room was occupied by a 11 month old, and any such activities in the sitting room were bound to be walked in on either by Mrs. Hudson, a client, or both.

“Yeah.” John nodded and picked up the baby monitor from where it sat on the table beside his chair, and followed Sherlock as the detective’s longs legs carried him through the flat. John stepped into Sherlock's bedroom and shut the door behind him, leaning against it like it was his safety rope. 

“If you'd rather not, John.” Sherlock began gently as his eyes crinkled kindly in a soft smile. 

“No, I just. Well, a bit nervous. Yeah?” John stumbled over his words and took an equally clumsy step forward. Sherlock placed the paper bag on the beside table and moved to John's side, wrapping him in a tight embrace. John reciprocated, throwing his arms around Sherlock's back and resting his head on his chest. Upon hearing just how fast Sherlock's heart was beating ooh gave a small laugh and leaned up to press a kiss to Sherlock's chin. 

“Guess I'm not the only one who's nervous,” he chuckled and leaned up further on his tiptoes to press their lips together. 

“Just the two of us. Logic says there is nothing to be nervous about, yet I find I am. Rather remarkable, really.” Sherlock whispered between kisses but fell silent when John's tongue brushed against his lips. His lips parted as a gasp tore free and John stole the opportunity and plunged his tongue deep inside Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock groaned and tightened his grip on John’s back and added his tongue to the mix of sensations. 

Without giving his actions any thought John pushed Sherlock backwards until the only other place to go was the ed. Somehow, without breaking their kiss, Sherlock ended up on his back on the middle of the bed with John on all fours over him.  Soon Sherlock's hands were tangled in John's hair while John’s were sliding over Sherlock's body. After a while John's fingers abandoned cataloging Sherlock's body in favor of plucking away at the sea of buttons on his chest. It was slow work as neither of them were willing to break their kiss, but John managed to pull open every button, including Sherlock's cuffs. 

John then took Sherlock's head in his hands and, through a series of kisses in which he pulled away slightly after every kiss, convinced the detective to sit up as his fingers began to explore the exposed skin on Sherlock's chest. John was on his knees in front of Sherlock, kissing the trembling man as he slowly slid his hands under his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders. 

Once Sherlock wrists had been freed from the sleeves he let John toss the shirt aside as he collapsed back on the bed. John remained on his knees long enough to rid himself of his bottom up, which joined Sherlock's on the floor as John chased Sherlock's swollen lips. After another moment of heated kissing Sherlock placed a hand on John's chest and pulled away, gasping for breath. 

“Let me see you, John. Please.” Sherlock pleased, his voice was low and gravely but it cracked with emotion as he sported his weight on his elbows. 

“Not much to look at, really.” John shrugged but let Sherlock maneuver him onto his back. For a moment he felt self conscious and had to fight the urge to cover himself; but he told himself that he was being silly, that Sherlock would have long ago deduced his many scars. Right down to the scar he got as a child when his appendix had bursts, most likely. However he was not prepared for the mournful groan that was torn from Sherlock's throat as the detective took in the sight. 

“I always assumed, but I had hoped to be wrong.” Sherlock lame ted as he traced a finger over a series of burns on his chest. “How long?” he asked before he could stop himself. 

“Yeah,” John cleared his throat and found himself relaxing under Sherlock's touch. “I was a POW for two months after getting shot.”

“How?” Sherlock started to ask again, but was stopped by John shaking his head.

“Another time, Luv, but not now. Bit of a mood killer, yeah?”

“Quite right.” Sherlock dipped his head in acknowledgment and pressed a kiss to John's sternum before curling up in his side and giving John a shy smile. “It may come as a surprise to you, but I've never done this before.”

“So, you're a,” John tilted around until he too was on his side facing Sherlock and locked his lips when Sherlock blushed and gave him a small nod. “Right… we go slow then, like we agreed.” John reached out and traced a finger over Sherlock's jaw, across his cheekbones then brushed a curl off of his forehead before continuing. “I'll be happy with whatever you give me. Whatever you're comfortable with, even if it's just kissing.”

“No! God no,” Sherlock spoke so quickly that John had to chuckle at his enthusiasm. “I want this, I want you. Jesus, John, if only you knew how long I’ve wanted you.” Sherlock blushed again, and John couldn't help himself. He scooted closer to him on the bed and pressed their foreheads together before letting out a long sigh. They both wordlessly finished undressing. John would have preferred taking the time to undress Sherlock himself, to kiss every inch of exposed skin, but they were both pressed for time as Rosie could wake up at any time. 

“If we overthink this to much, we won't get far, and sadly, time isn’t in our favor.” John nodded towards the baby monitor and pushed Sherlock onto his back while reaching for the bag. From the bag he withdrew the bottle of lube then crawled over Sherlock. “I’m going to go slow, just… frotting, I think this time around. You’ll tell me if you don’t like something?”

“Stop worrying, John.” Sherlock rolled his eyes but nodded when John’s eyebrows raised and he glared at him. “Yes, I’ll tell you.” 

“Good.” and with that John was again pressing their lips together as he worked the bottle open somewhere unseen between their bodies. As John’s slick hand wrapped around Sherlock’s cock the detective breathed out a groan, his eyes going wide at the sensations. “Too much?” John stilled his hand and lessened his grip a fraction.

“Ahhh….” Sherlock licked his lips and shook his head, dark curls bouncing with the force, “n-no. Not too much. Just… new. Yo-you can.. please move? Just, er, slowly.”

“Yeah…” John nodded tore his eyes from Sherlock’s face in favor of getting a good eyeful of Sherlock’s cock. It was long and thin, just like the rest of him, but not quite as pale; the tip was flushed with colour and leaking slightly. The muscles on Sherlock’s lower abdomen were contracting as the detective struggled to even his breathing. “Fucking gorgeous,” John breathed as he watched Sherlock’s whole body react to his touches. “So bloody responsive.” 

“Is… is that a good thing?” Sherlock struggled to get the words out, in the end he had to squeeze his eyes shut to concentrate, but his words still came out a bit slurred. 

“Yes, Sherlock. It’s a good thing.” John chuckled and couldn't help but place a kiss to his clavicle. As Sherlock’s breathing began to even out John moved his body a bit lower until he was able to comfortably straddle Sherlock’s hips. He aligned their bodies so he was sitting on Sherlock’s thighs with his own cock hovering just above Sherlock’s. 

“Sherlock, Luv, look at me. Keep your eyes focused on me…” John whispered and nodded as Sherlock’s snapped his attention towards John. “Mmm just like that, that’s right.” John soothed as he pressed his cock against Sherlock’s and wrapped both his hands around their members. “Every move either of us make, we’ll both feel it…” to demonstrate, John rolled his hips in a small circle then stilled as Sherlock bit back a cry. 

“More…” Sherlock panted out, rolling his own hips and moaning as John swiped one of his thumbs over the head of Sherlock’s cock. “Jesus… I…” Sherlock lost the ability to speak as a beautiful flush covered him from mid chest to forehead.

“Just let go, sweetheart, I’ve got you.” John whispered and glanced down just in time to see milky ejaculate spurt out of Sherlock’s cock. Sherlock gave one final twitch, which brought John over the edge and his release was soon added to the mess. After a moment of aftershocks John went limp and collapsed over Sherlock’s body, both of them breathing hard and both of them laughing.

“That was…”

“Mmm…” Sherlock nodded, and reached out a long pale arm to pull John that much closer. “Can we do that again sometime?”

“Any time you’d like.” John murmured as he began showering Sherlock’s neck with kisses. John was just about to make himself comfortable and settle in for what he hoped to be a bit of a rest, when the baby monitor began to crackle and cries filled the room. “Mmmmmm she gets her timing form you. Be right back...” John rolled himself out of bed and bent to pick up his clothes then headed into the bathroom to clean himself off.

After John’s footsteps could be heard on the stairs Sherlock took a quick trip to the loo then returned to his bedroom to change into lounge clothes. From the sanctuary of his room, Sherlock could hear John talking to Rosie through the monitor. His voice was low and soft, soothing his daughter’s tears. 

_ “Ohhh… you’re alright sweetie.”  _

Sherlock sat on his bed, one sock on one sock still in his hand, and closed his eyes, imagining John smiling down at Rosie as he changed her nappy.

_ “Such a good girl. There we go, all clean. Should we go see Daddy now?”  _

Sherlock, who had been attempting to put on his second sock, froze with the sock just over his toes, and smiled as John sighed, and said a bit louder.

“Yeah, you heard that, didn’t you?” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter kinda jumps in time. Sorry, but my muse wasn't kind to me with this! I have something planned, I just needed to get there!

Another week went by and John had taken to openly calling Sherlock “Daddy” in front of anyone who happened to be around them. Rosie herself had even begun to squeal out “Da” whenever she saw either man. 

Neither John nor Sherlock seemed to mind. In fact it was quite the opposite. Sherlock beamed every time it happened. It was a new smile, one John had never seen on his partner’s face. It was soft, bashful, and made of pure happiness, and John snapped a picture of it every chance he got. 

 

***

 

One morning months later John looked up over the table of invitations and smiled at Mrs. Hudson.

“Thanks for talking me into this. Can’t believe she’s going to be one.” He shook his head and went back to folding the invitations and stuffing them in envelopes, passing them to Mrs. Hudson who was sealing them shut with a wet sponge. 

“My pleasure, John.” she beamed at him, then laughed as Rosie came crawling full speed into the kitchen, her little sing song voice saying, “Daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy,” over and over on repeat. Both John and Sherlock looked at her and John smiled when Sherlock scooped her up into his arms and they fake waltzed into the lounge. 

“You’re both going by daddy I see.” The older woman looked up and gave John a confused little frown. 

“Mm yes.” John pursed his lips and waited for the but that was sure to follow.

“But how will you know which Daddy she means when she calls for you?”

“Well, she's hardly talking much beyond Daddy, food, juice, and gibberish, so I don't think we need worry much about that yet. Plus, certainly Sherlock's smart enough to figure out which one of us she means.” John looked over at Sherlock, who was in the sitting room, in his chair singing softly to Rosie while bouncing her on his lap. “Look at him. He’s not exactly a Father, is he?”

“Nooo.” Mrs. Hudson said, and in her mothering way and smiled over at the duo. “Papa doesn’t seem quite right either, does it?” 

“No, we’ll figure it out. However, we’ve got a name for you.” John pursed his lips in order to hide his smile.

“Oh?” 

“Well, a few really. Which do you prefer. Gram, or Nana or the ever traditional Grandmother?”

“Who, me?” She squeaked out, pen now placed on the table with one hand over her mouth. “I've always wanted to be a Nana.”

“Nana it is then,” Sherlock, who was now carrying a squeaking and delighted Rosie by her ankles, stepped into the room and pretended not to see John's horror stricken face as he stood up and scoped the child from Sherlock's grip, placing her right side up on the floor. “Relax, John. She loves it. She’s already proving herself to be an adrenaline junkie like the rest of us. You included.” Sherlock bend down on his way through the room and kissed Mrs. Hudson on the cheek. “I heard there was another car chase in London yesterday, Mycroft had to get involved.” 

“Yes, but that mean we should carry our daughter around by the ankles all the time.” John sighed, in a sort of exhausted “I don't know why I bother to argue” way. 

“Why not?” Sherlock opened the fridge, which was now void of body parts thanks to the toddler, and pulled out an orange. He leaned over the sink as he pealed it and Rosie watched with wide eyes, a bit a drool sliding down her chin as the scents of sweet citrus filled the room.

“You… just, can't, you'd better give her some of that. I think you'd break her heart if you didn't.”

In the end, feeding Rosie the orange became a bit of a game. Sherlock would peal off a segment and hold it out to her, but walk backwards forcing her to follow. She knew how to walk, had known for the better part of a month, but had decided that crawling was much faster and all but refused to walk unless she was holding someone's hands. But now, knowing she'd need her hands for the orange, she stood and took a few wobbly steps forward, for every three feet she walked Sherlock would reward her with a slice of orange. By the time the fruit was gone, Rosie had forgotten about her love of crawling and was now running circles in the flat.  

“See, John!” Sherlock grinned as he sat down at the table, wiping the sticky juice from the orange off on a towel. “She just needed a bit of coaxing.”

“More like rewarding her for learning a new trick, like a dog.” John tried to sound upset at Sherlock’s unorthodox parenting, but seeing Rosie running around sent a spark of warmth through his chest and he smiled, if only for a moment before he managed to school his features. “Still, let’s not treat her like an animal, yeah? Proper parenting, Sherlock, we agreed.”

“While in the long term, reward systems are ineffective, it does work for now.” Sherlock shrugged and slouched against the counter as he inspected the mess on their kitchen table. “Since when it is fine for there to be a mess on the table? Or is it fine as long as I’m the one who hasn’t made it?”

“It’s fine, because it isn’t toxic or some sort of acid that could eat our daughter,  _ and _ because it will get cleaned up before dinner. Now sit down and fold. If you fold, I can stuff, it’ll go by much quicker.” 

“How does she have this many friends?” Sherlock huffed as he plopped himself heavily into a chair and glared at the stack of completed invitations. “She’s one! Even I don’t have this many friends.”

“Well, you are a bit of an arse hole, dear.” John chuckled and nudged he knee against Sherlock’s thigh. “A few of them are Mary’s friends, the couple Rosie stayed with after… well..” John’s voice cracked and both Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson paused to look up at him. “Some are my old rugby mates, might be nice to show you both off. Then there is your family, Molly, Greg, a few people from the clinic, then of course there are a few kids from daycare.”

“How are we fitting everyone in here?” Sherlock assessed the stack of invitations and the square footage of their flat.

“They won't, which is why it’ll be held at Bees Knees. They take care of catering, set up, and cleanup. Plus we can hire an entertainer. I’m thinking we should skip the clown, no sense in traumatizing her just yet.” 

“Brilliant plan. Do I have to go?” Sherlock leaned lazily against the back of his chair and held up his hands in surrender when both John and Mrs. Hudson glared at him.

“You’re her father, you arse, of course you're going. And,” John pointed a finger directly at Sherlock’s face, “you’ll enjoy it. Or pretend, for my sake.” 

 

“If I smile and make nice with all your friends can we have sex after.” 

“Possibly.”

“See!” Sherlock stood and smirked down at Rosie, “Rewards just turn into bribes when you’re an adult!” Sherlock kissed Rosie’s chubby cheek and emitted a deep chuckle. “Daddy thinks he’s so clever, doesn’t he? Thought I wouldn’t figure him out.”

“Daddy’s right here.” 

“As am I dears, now I’m happy that you’re happy, but really in my day we didn’t talk about sex in front of people.” Mrs. Hudson cut in, and the smirk dropped from Sherlock’s lips. “Now I’ll drop these in the post on my way to the shops later.” Their landlady stood and kissed Rosie’s blond curls and gathered up the stack of envelopes.

  
  


*** 

 

“That was. Horrendous. A nightmare. Frightening. Tedious. John, that made some of my nightmares look like fields of rainbows and kittens!” Sherlock groaned and pulled a bag full of presents out of the bag of Mycroft’s car. “Screaming children, adults bickering, drama. You call them friends?”

“Mmm, and I put up with you on a daily basis.” John called over his shoulder as he pulled Rosie out of her carseat. A carseat, which had become standard issue in all of Mycroft’s towncars. It was endearing, actually, how quickly Mycroft fell into the role of a doting Uncle.  

“You two bicker like an old married couple.” Mycroft sighed as he helped his little brother with the bags.

“Yet he won't marry me.” Sherlock snorted out but there was no bite behind his words.

“Been there, done that.” John hoisted Rosie up higher on his hip and smiled sadly at Sherlock. “Sorry darling, but that’s not a path I plan on going down again.” 

“It wasn’t a no.” Sherlock grinned at his brother as the three of them made their way into Baker Street. “I’ll wear him down yet.”

“Rosie would make quite the flowergirl.” Mycroft smirked, “but John doesn’t seem the blushing bride type, Lock.” 

“He’s right you know.” John brushed bast Mycroft and headed up the stairs, patting Sherlock on the shoulder as he passed. “Not putting me in a wedding dress. White isn’t my colour, washes me out, makes my hair look even more grey than it is. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to put Rosie down for a nap,” instead of stopping at the second floor John continued on into his old room and placed Rosie down on the changing table. 

“What do you think? Hmm? Should I tie the knot again?” He kissed Rosie’s foot and smiled as she giggled sleepily up at him. “Is that a yes? Maybe…” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I found I enjoyed writing them like this quite a bit, so don't be surprised if I add a second chapter. I'm marking it as complete for now, simply because I'm not sure I have time to work on three WIP's. But I have more ideas spinning in my head for these three!


End file.
